


So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings

by BurningLostStars



Series: (my) Molliarty Tumblr fics collection [1]
Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fairy Tale, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, F/M, I Blame Tumblr, Reverse Tropes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-12
Updated: 2019-05-12
Packaged: 2020-03-01 14:50:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18802525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BurningLostStars/pseuds/BurningLostStars
Summary: The prince fought valiantly.He slayed the dragon.The princess cried for days.She loved that dragon.Based onthis poston Tumblr





	So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their endings

  


***

From the window of the tower, sunlight came every morning and fell asleep behind distant mountains with the arrival of the night.  
A sparse blaze of grass, primroses and freesias had blossomed on the meadow surrounding the manor, and climbing roses embraced the stone and adorned the tower like a red mantle, up to the high battlements.  
And Molly, princess of a nameless kingdom covered by time and dust, watched absorbed the slow passage of seasons and years, from that window that represented the only glimpse of the outside world. Old age seemed to pass by her, never touching her. One of the many effects that the Dragon's spell had left on her skin, a gift and condemnation that would not abandon her if not at the death of her abductor, a mark of black magic that kept unchanged her delicate, gentle features. 

Centuries ago, when the blood of war had swallowed up the fields and only smoke and ash were wandering in the silent skies, she was taken away from the castle of her noble ancestors through deception. Her people surrendered, and the Dragon finally won his battle. He then kept her in a tower hidden in the misty forest, deeply asleep for a thousand years, in a bed covered with flowers and silk, as the most precious of jewels, the most precious of treasures.  
He watched her from afar, every day, greedily devouring her pale skin, passing his gaze through her long brown hair. But the years passed, and hunger changed its traits, gaining more calm, mild, tender tones. It became love. Love for that princess who dreamed in his bed, petite and fragile as glass, like a tender blossom under gray mounds of snow, trying not to succumb to the frost of winter. And sometimes, in the darkness of those stone corridors where the echoes of his footsteps resounded slow and empty, he would curse himself for having grasped her forcefully by the hands of her fellow men, condemning her to a timeless life, far from those who once she called mother and father, now buried in cold lands.  
Until the day he knelt beside her, moved away the silk drapes that covered her lifeless-like body and, keeping her close to him, laid his lips on hers. Sweetly at first, almost asking permission. But James Moriarty, once a human among humans, had renounced his humanity to obtain from the dark forces an immortal heart, a Dragon heart, and so that encounter of lips soon became angry, passionate, desperate. It was then that the princess woke up, opening her eyes for the first time in a thousand years. Wide, kind eyes, two stars that seemed to have left their constellation. He moved his face away, feeling lost and guilty and completely untrustworthy, and his fingers left her back. She stood forward, grabbed him by the robe and pulled him back on her skin, kissing him again and again, until their breathing was the only sound that pervaded the room. She had dreamt of him, felt his quiet presence despite the magic that kept her asleep, and fell in love with the man who had taken her away, imprisoned her on the highest tower of a castle surrounded by thorns and nettles. For a thousand years she waited for him to wake her up, to grant him her forgiveness. 

And so the princess and the Dragon looked for another thousand years at the stars of the firmament, side by side, from the top of that black tower. 

But time passed, the castles destroyed by the war returned to shine again, men crowned new monarchs, and the story of the princess who was sleeping a sleep of death in the woods, guarded by an evil sorcerer with a Dragon's heart, spread across the lands and beyond the sea. A knight who had deserved the title of Dragon Slayer, the brave Sherlock Holmes, set off on a horseback through the sharp shrubs, intent on killing the sorcerer and saving the princess.  
And one day, as Molly was looking up, from her lonely window, at the high mountains and the clear, glassy sky that stretched endlessly above her, a loud noise of clogs fell on the ground surrounding the manor house, announcing the arrival of the knight.  
But she wasn't alone, in her room. James Moriarty had joined her at the window, moving her long hair away from her shoulder with a soft touch and looking down at his opponent. And the sorcerer saw a man who had not surrendered to magic, a man with a whole, devoted, unconquerable heart. Symbol and stronghold of that humanity that he lost, in exchange for his own soul.  
Sherlock Holmes, the Dragon Slayer, was a man not yet won by evil, who would not fall.  
And it was then that James Moriarty took the princess's hands, brought them to his lips for one last time and told her not to be afraid. She looked at him. She understood. And begged him not to go away, to stay there, with her, until the end of the world, of everything known. They would become a memory, an echo of distant times, ashy ghosts of past eras.  
It was too late. He was changing his body into shiny scales, his skin taking the features of his cursed heart.  
The Dragon fell ferociously on the knight, growled with all the breath in his throat, covering him with flames and sulfur. But, when Sherlock Holmes raised his sword to strike him to death, he opened his wings and let the gleaming blade reach his heart.  
With a low cry, he fell on a bed of crocuses and daisies, spilling warm blood between stems and bright petals. Returning to his human form, he looked up to the tower, towards the window, and saw her. The sun's rays illuminated her aching shape, sparkening the tears that were streaming down her face. James Moriarty smiled, with his eyes full of sunshine, and full of her. And he died quietly, in the red of his blood, facing the wide sky.

After two thousand years, Molly's life began to flow again.

***


End file.
